


Goodwill to Some

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Christmas, Demons, Drinking, Friendship, Gen, Love, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21837028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Crowley hates the feeling of Christmas goodwill.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	Goodwill to Some

"Quick, it's an emergency!" Crowley said, staggering in the door of the bookshop, feeling far too cheerfully fuzzy and in need of medicinal alcohol to lift the winter chill. It was a sign of how wrong everything was that it was still open, with one or two stubborn shoppers hanging around.

"What? Has the cold weather made you ill?" Aziraphale said with far too much glee. "I'm terribly sorry, my friend's not well, we're _closed_ ," he called out, and physically shoved the last recalcitrant customer out the door. "Thank you for that," he said, then somewhat belatedly, "You're not really ill, are you?"

"No, much you obviously care. I'm _shattered_ , angel. Have you any idea how tiring it is, inciting sin at this time of year? The bastards are out in force, buying presents for people they hate – it should be _easy_ , but then someone puts up a picture of a bloody dog in a Christmas jumper on Facebook or something and I'm surrounded by the most horribly infectious goodwill to all. _Ugh_."

"Poor you," Aziraphale said. "Drink?"

" _Please_."

Aziraphale led him into the back room and bustled off, returning with two very stiff gin and tonics.

"This is very seasonal," Crowley said, savouring the ginger and cinnamon in the glass. He felt himself start to relax and lounged over as much of the ratty sofa as he could.

"Mmm, gingerbread syrup – sold to me by a perfectly lovely young man in Waitrose, by the way, no need to look at your nasty old Facebook at all. It looked like an interesting and frivolous suggestion, so I thought you'd like it."

"I'd say bless you, but you know how I use the word. Well done on the truly massive hedge of holly on the counter, by the way. No customer can possibly fight their way through to pay for anything."

Aziraphale looked rather smug.

"Thank you. I was thinking of actually just filling the entire floor space with prickly greenery but that might have been a bit much. Though it _would_ keep the customers under control, what a lovely thought. Do you think giant Venus Flytraps might be Christmassy?"

"Depends how many baubles you hang on them."

After the second G&T Crowley was feeling on a far more even keel and less like he might suddenly show Aziraphale a picture of a pug wearing reindeer antlers. The angel's seasonal antipathy to customers had cheered him right up.

"You are still coming to mine on the 25th?" he said casually.

"Are you promising ridiculously over the top decorations, a sea of wine and a sybaritic dinner that I have to cook for you?"

"As always."

"Well, then," Aziraphale said, lifting his glass in a toast. 

Crowley felt a treacherous surge of goodwill threatening to return. He held out his glass for a refill to dispel it. The angel brought them both back another full glass of Christmas spirit and they settled in cheerfully, sheltering from the cold snap in the warmth of gin, Aziraphale's rickety gas heater and long, happy companionship.


End file.
